


The Deafening Sound of the Sandstorm

by lunicole



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Space Inquisition, Empire Officers as Witchfinders, Force Users as Witches, Gen, M/M, Politics, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 03:43:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6407350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunicole/pseuds/lunicole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tatooine is an ugly planet with ugly people, endless deserts and large sandstorms that often shield the planet away from the rest of the galaxy for days on end. It doesn't matter, because Hux isn't here for long, a week at most, to extract a User found in the desert who allegedly massacred an entire village before being captured by one of the local warlords.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Deafening Sound of the Sandstorm

**Author's Note:**

> First, this is a fill for the TFA kink meme, hello there if you come from Dreamwidth!
> 
> Also, I got a bit... Lazy with canon research. Basically this is an AU where there is no Rebellion, the Empire is, well, more Early Modern France than the canon Roman/Nazi thing, and Hux is the Space Opera equivalent of a 17th century witch hunter tracking, putting through trial and executing rogue force Users (/heretics) across the galaxy.

**01**

 

Tatooine is an ugly planet with ugly people. It’s the endless desert and the few little villages punctuating the bare wasteland. There’s just something about Outer Rim territories that makes kthem impermeable to civilisation, Hux can’t help but to think. It doesn’t matter because he’s not staying here long. 

 

Hux never stays long in lost, forgotten regions of the Empire where most of the work has to be done. He’s efficient, and he’s the best at what he does, which is why they send him afterall.

 

The ship manages a smooth landing on what seems like the backyard of what Hux guesses is the local warlord’s palace. It’s an ugly construction of  and concrete, large and imposing without being actually pretty. It’s gaudy and tasteless, just like this kind of place usually is. The twin suns provide a harsh light to the large complex, built, the files said, to resist the harsh sandstorms that hit the northern hemisphere of the planet around this time of the year. The fact that they’ve managed to catch one of the rare days with a clear sky is a feat in itself, as the place is often completely cut out from the rest of the galaxy for several days on end.

 

The imperial delegation is welcomed by a convoy of courtesans of various species, who all bow with servile admiration at Hux’s feet. The show of submission is entertaining, but Hux knows better than to let that get the best of him. None of them speaks Standard, and so Hux’s translator, a wiry little officer he’s been assigned to named Mitaka, gets to work. User extraction excludes the use of protocol droids, as they often can become a liability in securing the targets, but there are other inconveniences in using human interpreters Hux has come to be familiar with. He can only hope Mitaka won’t screw it up the way Thannison had.

 

They present the usual salutations and gifts that comes with imperial displays of authority in regions of the galaxy where their control is flimsy at best. The guards, heavy-bodied Gamorreans, accept the expensive Hosnian silk and flashy but somewhat inefficient, at least in Hux’s eyes, Corellian weapons. There seems to be a general nod of acceptance within the guards, and so the two officers are led into the secluded palace, their dark uniforms stark against the endless grey scenery of the desert.

 

The local warlords, Hux has come to learn, have simple, vulgar tastes and requests concerning their place within the imperial order. As one of the last large slaver dynasties of the galaxy, the Hutts only bend to the Empire on the promise that their previous cooperation treaties with the Republic are to be respected, even concerning the extension of anti-slavery legislation in Outer Rim territories. In turn, they punctually pay respect and taxes to imperial representatives, and accept submission to Coruscant’s central tribunals and political instances. 

 

It’s always more difficult to properly root out heresy in that kind of situation, Hux has come to learn. However, it’s far from the first time Hux has come to work in this kind of condition. He’ll manage, as he’s always done.

  
  


The Hutt’s small court is constituted of a ragtag of local species, prostitutes, smugglers and random thugs serving his crime conglomerate that spawns over the few neighbouring planets. They’re all as ill-refined as Hux expected them to be, but he doesn’t care much. Those are not the one he’s here for, and he knows perfectly well that he could have them all executed if he so wished to.

 

The fact that they're viewed as intruders is painfully clear, from the insistent stares to the whispering some courtesans can hardly repress as they pass them by. It's to be expected in that kind of situation, and while it doesn't really seem to affect Hux, Mitaka can hardly repress the expression of terror upon his face. It's a fault in his underling, Hux knows it, and even though he's the best Huttese speaker they could find within imperial officers, Hux regrets they’ve chosen to assign him the shivering little mess instead of Phasma as his assistant.

 

Hutt himself is as disgusting and as crude as the data on him leads to believe. Hux can barely refrain a grimace of disdain as the warlord tries to offer the officers underrage prostitutes as a gift of welcome. He instructs Mitaka to politely refuse, which makes the slimy creature chuckle with a sound that sounds more like a gargle than anything else.

 

“He wants to know if there’s going to be reward for him giving up the witch to us,” Mitaka says, his gaze wavering away from both Hux and their host.

 

Hux smiles. Both Hutt and him know that a petty Outer Rim gangster can hardly ever hope exerting control and regulation over heresy the way imperial officers do. The fact that the Empire sends men like Hux in far away territories such as Tatooine to extract Users is beneficial to both parties. Only imperial legislation has the means, the knowledge and the power to deal with rooting out dangerous deviants. Still, these are dangerous territories, and barbarians such as the Hutts are a tricky lot, even for experienced diplomats such as Hux.

 

“Continued cooperation and commercial assistance from the Core Worlds,” Hux answers somewhat smugly.

 

There’s a wave of disapproval within the assistance as Mitaka translates, but Hutt himself looks as unphased as his deformed face can let him. He speaks again, his fat tongue licking his discoloured teeth.

 

“He’s happy to learn that the Empire, unlike the Republic, won’t be promising things they can’t offer him.”

“We’re happy to be on the same wavelength, then. Will he be able to give me details upon this ‘witch’ they’ve found, and hopefully show me where they are detained.”

 

There’s more talking and shouting upon that declaration among the audience, all of it is cut short by a move of Hutt’s short, fat arms. For an insignificant little warlord of some forgotten system of the galaxy, he certainly seem to be able to enforce some sort of discipline among his underlings, Hux has to admit.

 

“The witch appeared with the coming of the midnight sunrises, just before the sandstorm season. It was found by Jawas during one of their last scrap raids over the abandoned villages of the frontier, who decided to bring it back in hopes of being able to resell it as a slave to a local farmer. Only, as it woke from its slumber, it laid destruction upon the entire village on a scale rarely ever seen before. It’s only after a costly expedition by Lord Hutt himself that they managed to capture it and carbon freeze it until the arrival of more experienced imperial witch hunters. It’s a benediction that the Emperor thought of sending them the  _ Witchfinder General _ himself.”

 

Hux suppresses a laugh at the title. For all his love for order and hierarchy, Hux can’t help but to wince at the inexactitude of the appellation. He doesn’t comment on it, though. It’s a normal things for indigenous people of the more savage corners of the galaxy to mix Users with witchcraft, although metropolitan men such as Hux are learned enough not to do that mistake. Once again, heresy and misuse of the Force are much more dangerous than whatever local mythology’s promises of hell can construct around the phenomenon.

 

“Very well, then. I’ll be glad to take a look at your prisoner.”

  
  


There’s a rather impressive maze of corridors under the Hutt’s palace. All of it is lit by an odd mix of directed sunlight and a rudimentary electric circuit. To their host’s own words, the complex is used as a stockyard for recently acquired slaves and a training ground for those unfit for reselling just yet. The smell of alien urine and sweat seems to permeate the walls, even though most of the holding cells seem empty.

 

“It’s the lower season,” Hux is informed. “The only ones left here are the ones they haven’t been able to properly train, mostly work slaves for the local moisture farms.”

 

Hux doesn’t comment, doesn’t have to for Mitaka to catch what’s going on in his head. This is barbaric, but this is none of the Empire’s business, given the current treaties signed with the locals.

 

They’re lead deep underground, in what seems like the most secure holding cell within the palace. The large iron door is impressive, but Hux knows its use is mostly to be intimidating. This is pointless for the kind of Users he has to deal with on a regular basis. Still, he wonders what exactly he is to find here. The cell cranks open, giving them a first look at the subject of their visit.

 

It’s a somewhat large, dark cell, with flickering lights giving the entire area an aura of terror. It’s usually the kind of feeling Users inspire when they’re discovered, Hux knows, and he walks in, his hand neatly folded behind his back.

 

The User is kept in an interesting, albeit somewhat crude contraption. It seems like some sort of recycled, transformed restraining device probably ripped away from a crashed imperial ship, from the small detail Hux can make out of it in the dim light. He approaches it carefully, his steps echoing over the clean stone floor. From an expert point of view, the crisscrossing of metal ropes and various leather scraps is at best mildly annoying to the regular trained User, but this isn't what's keeping this one from moving.

 

“They say they’ve drugged him,” Mitaka translates from their guide, a rather large Rodian who’s seemingly in charge of this place. “They used the hardest thing they’ve got here, the one they usually keep for the most unruly slaves they’re training for sex work.”

 

There’s indeed a glossy, absent sheen to the User’s eyes, who are partially hidden by a veil of black hair falling over his face. He’s younger than the usual ones that come to his attention, and it's a wonder they haven't simply burned him right away, as it is usually the case with Users caught so far away from the metropolis by local forces. Hux notes that he’ll have to check the formula they've used on him. If this one had any strength left in him, he would have left this place decades ago.

 

“Is he conscious?”

 

There's a number of guttural sounds that come as an answer to his question.

 

“Hardly. The guard says he can hear us, but he can’t move or use his powers. They’ve only released him from his carbon frozen state for our arrival, as a symbol of good will from Hutt himself towards the Empire.”

 

Hux chuckles, which doesn't seem to entertain their guide. Mitaka makes that somewhat terrified expression as he speaks again.

 

“He asks why you find amusing that Hutt wants to collaborate with the witchfinder.”

 

His gloved fingers linger on the bondages, and he can feel the skin under what seems like an impressive amount of leather tense. When he looks up, the User’s expression, while still definitively drugged, has taken that slight hint of unspoken discomfort. Hux smiles.

 

“Tell him I’m simply expressing satisfaction at their handling of the prisoner. We’ll start the interrogation tomorrow, they can freeze him again for the time being. I’ll take care of the unfreezing myself at that moment.”

 

Mitaka bows politely, explains, and soon enough they're escorted out of the palace’s dark underbelly. 

  
  


It’s night when Hux closes the door of their shared chambers, making sure they’re alone. He knows the Hutts aren't nearly stupid enough to risk a diplomatic incident by installing surveillance on the both of them, but one can never be too prudent. As the short little sergeant falls down on one of the beds in exhaustion, Hux starts inspecting the room for any hidden surveillance devices.

 

“So, what are your first impressions of Tatooine, Mitaka?” he says as he looks under the bed for any surprises, before inspecting one of the mirrors with his gloves still on.

“I don't know… Inhospitable. I’ve never been so far away from civilization in the past. I’m still amazed by how barbaric territories on the limits of the Empire can be.”

 

Hux almost rolls his eyes at the comment. Typical cadet speak. What's clear, however, is that there isn't anything that might be used to spy on them, which gives room for Hux to speak freely now. He sits next to Mitaka, places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

“It's true that it might be shocking for an untrained officer, although, I must say…”

 

His grip on the young man’s shoulder tightens, albeit not strongly enough to bruise yet. He can feel Mitaka freeze in terror under his touch. This is exactly the point of their discussion.

 

“I will ask you, from now on, to present a more dignified appearance in front of our hosts. Your obvious pathetic shrivelling does no good to the image of the Empire, an image of strength and power that is crucial to maintain in front of our allies.”

 

He can hear Mitaka distinctly clench his teeth at that very moment. Good.

 

“Have I made myself clear, Lieutenant?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.”

 

He lets go of him, and Mitaka looks like he's doing his best not to show his fear. That's a good start, and Hux knows Mitaka is not a complete imbecile even though he is a coward. This is the last time they will talk about this.

  
That night, Hux lies in bed wondering what exactly is a the nagging feeling inside his chest that won't go ever since he's come here.


End file.
